Bounty Hunter's Life
by The Phophet's Prophet
Summary: This is bull, my guard is bull, this whole case against me is bull, Idiot Face is a moron and I hate him, Thong-Guy needs to get himself some real freakin' pants, and what have I done to be put in a jail cell! I HAVEN'T DONE ANYTHING! I DID NOT PUNCH THAT OLD LADY! AAAAAAHHHHHHHH! WHY ME!


I AM NOT A CRIMINAL! I AM A BOUNTY HUNTER! I have been wrongly accused! I should not be held up In a cell with rat crap on the walls! How did it even get on the walls!? Projectile crapping!? Did the stupid guards pick it up by the handful and chuck it at the walls for giggles!? AAAHHHHH!

"Why am I here?" I screamed at the idiot currently standing in front of the bars, staring at me with a dumb look on his face. Frickin' idiot!

"Well, uh, Mr. Criminal,-

"If you call me that, I will reach out past those bars and choke you, that's a promise," I told him right to his stupid face.

"Oh…well, um, Mr. Nonfollower-of-the-Law-

AAAHHHHHHHHHHH!

"Bro, step back from the bars!" Idiot Face screamed at me. The frickin' chains on my wrist wouldn't let me reach any further towards his Idiot Face neck!

"Why am I here?" I hissed, still trying to push my hands at him. If I could just grab his collar, I could pull him forward and bash his head against the bars, just once.

"Man, just step back, and I'll tell you," He whimpered, pulling out a clipboard from his pocket…

WHERE DID HE GET A CLIPBOARD!? YOU CAN'T JUST PULL ONE OUT OF YOUR POCKET! THAT IS ABSOLUTELY NOT ALLOWED! WHERE'D HE PUT IT? HE JUST SMUGGLING CLIPBOARDS IN HIS ANUS!?

I've got clumps of hair in my hands, I need to stop. "Okay man," I reasoned, pulling my hands away from his very easily choked neck. I'll play by his dumb rules. "By all means, tell me. I'll warn you right now though. If I hear a stupid answer, those bars will not stop me, I promise. Lasers, made of pure hate for you at this point, will shoot out of my eyes and slice you in half."

"Uh, what would a dumb answer constitute as?"

"You'll know," I told him, getting very close to the bars, pointing my eyes at him as hard as I could. I don't think I can shoot lasers, but right now would be the best time to find out.

"Oh, that helps," He said, and I actually think he believed it would…

**THRONG!**

That was my head, hitting the bars as hard as it could. And no, it was not hard enough to kill me.

"Let's see," He said, flipping to a random page. Why is no one prepared anymore? He should have had the clipboard, which he had gotten FROM HIS POCKET by the way, out already, should have been on the page he wanted to be on by now but no! This guy has to suck at his job! I have to get the guard who is the absolute worst guard in the history of guarding! And I'm not even supposed to be here! AAAAHHHHHHHH!

"Robbing a bank, punching a guard in the face, punching an old lady in the mouth, stealing money from said bank, punching another old lady in the face, putting money in a burlap sack, stealing candy from a baby, stealing candy from an even tinier baby, attacking good marines, suspected unauthorized use of a Devil Fruit and one more charge of punching an old lady in the face," He listed off. I think my ears are bleeding from the pure stupidity and bullcrap I just heard.

"One: Some of those aren't even crimes. Two: Screw you, I hate your face. Three: I have no Devil Fruit. Where would I even get one? Four, and oh so most important: I HATE YOUR FACE!" I screamed at him.

"How do I know you don't have a Devil Fruit?"

"Ask me."

"Do you have-

"NO, I DON'T! YOU FRICKIN' MORON!"

"…I believe you."

"AND I HATE YOUR FA-really? Does that mean you're taking it off the record?" I asked, almost shocked. Maybe this guy wasn't so bad after all. Idiot Face may have some good in him after all.

"No, I can't do that."

"WHAT!? WHY?" I screamed, pulling on my hair.

**RIP! **There it goes, more hair!

"You might have a Devil Fruit."

"…I…I…I don't even know what to say at this point. Get out before I hurt you, take out your wallet, find your grandmother, and apparently, PUNCH HER IN THE MOUTH BECAUSE FROM THAT POLICE REPORT IN THE CLIPBOARD THAT MATERIALIZED OUT OF YOUR RECTUM, **IT'S ONE OF MY FAVORITE PASSTIMES!**"

**THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!**

These bars aren't hard enough to break my skull!

"Uh, sir?" he asked, as I slowly put my head down in defeat. "Do you need help? Like…mentally? Not that there's anything wrong with that!"

"When I get out of here, I'm going straight back in because I will kill you," The only silver lining in any of this is if I could make him crap his pants.

"I'll just leave you alone then…"

"Yeah, please do that," I told him, still lying on the ground, face towards the dirt.

"Hold right there, Junior!" An obnoxiously loud voice called from behind the door, or what used to be the door because the A-hole just knocked it down.

"OH, IT'S ALWAYS SOMETHING, ISN'T IT?" Who…wears…golden…TIGHTS? Because, seriously, he was wearing golden frickin' tights. He was wearing stockings, basically. And a purple shirt. And…no…no…there's no way…

IS THAT A THONG!?

"Get me out of here! This is hell! This is hell!" I screamed, crawling around on my back in circles.

"Look at him crawling around, Junior. What are you so scared about?" Thong-Guy asked Idiot Face.

"I'll jam my thumbs in your eyes…" I muttered, my voice raspy from all the screaming. Even when the screaming had good reasons.

"Oh…nothing to worry about!" He shouted out in glee, doing a split in midair. There was way too much seen when he did it.

"Uh, sir, if I can ask, sir, um, but, well, what are you here for, sir?" Idiot Face questioned. That's a stupid question. I don't know how it is, but it is.

"The judge!…Wants HIM…in the CourtHOOOOUUUSE!" Thong-Guy struck poses as he screamed.

…Why? Why me?

"WHY?…Are you!…such an IDIOOOOT!" I mimicked him. I am really not helping out my case here. Wait a minute, there is no case because I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!

"Hmm…pitiful thing," Thong-Guy mocked me as he approached the bars of my cell. "I could squash you like a bug you know."

"You're making me wet myself. I need water, because I'm pretty sure it's the same color as your pants." I answered his challenge, pushing myself up to my knees.

"If the judge doesn't put you on death row, see me, I'll handle it."

"Don't worry, your outfit's already killing me."

"Too bad I don't have chains on my wrists, we could be matching," He snarled back at me, before pushing his nose up at me. Haughty, little jerk.

"Junior, release him from his cell…oooooon the DOUBLE!" He cheered, striking more poses. My eyes, my beautiful eyes, ruined.

"Dear sweet Zombie Jeebus, put some clothes on!" I screamed at him as he finished. Idiot Face opened up my door, with trepidation. If I can make him piss his pants, I'm golden. Like Thong-Guy's pants. Two more guards came and picked me up on their shoulders, the chains chaffing against my wrists. The chaffing's not really important, but there has to be some detail in this story, right?

"I think I've heard you talk too much for now," Thong-Guy told me, a smirk on his face. Moron, I'll talk all I want-Oh crap, he's going to kick me.

**Thwack!**

()()**E.O.C.**()()()

So this was a test chapter, to see if I want to continue this. It'll be a lighter tale than my other stories have been, but not too light so don't worry you edgy miscreants, you Readors of mine. My humor is not for everybody, I understand that. Still, if you like, go ahead and shower me with praise. Or criticism. Or undying hatred. Or never-ending love! Didn't take the time to edit, so I've probably left out a word that I'll see months later and change it, but by then it won't matter. Until the next chapter…

Thanks for Reading!


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